Snake in the Shadows
by TheDarkSideHasCookies101
Summary: Arkham Asylum is a place for villains, murderers and psychopaths. Good thing Cole is all three.
1. Chapter 1 - Arkham Asylum

A young man sat in a sparse room, with plain, white walls and cold, hard floors. The only light slinked through the bars from a bare bulb flickering in the hallway. The bed was no more comfortable than sleeping on a wire hammock and the standard issue blanket felt like a hessian sack. This was a minimum security room in Arkham Asylum, the mediums were upstairs and the maximums were underground.

The guards were cruel and brutish, hardened from years of inmate abuse and attacks. Almost everyone at Arkham Asylum was totally insane, but the ones who were sane were the most dangerous.

The buzzer sounded and he stood and faced the wall, his back to the door.

"Don't move, you piece of shit", a guard slammed the boy face first against the side wall of his cell. He breathed heavily through his nose, while the guard held his arms behind his back and continued to push his face into the concrete.

Another man entered, "Prisoner, do you have any information regarding the Joker's escape? You were observed talking to Harleen Quinzel earlier this week"

"I-I don't know nothing, sir, I don't know nothing!" the boy was flustered, and his words were slightly garbled from his face being pushed into the wall,

"what did she want then?" said the second guard,

"she asked me where Eddie was sir, that's all"

"hmm, well then, we'll pay a visit to Nigma next, then" the guard took his hand off the boy's face and kicked him in the back of the knee, the boy's leg gave way and he fell to the floor. He was left there, on the floor like a piece of old garbage.

The boy was alone, a sixteen-year-old that no one cared about. He had been in Arkham for six months now and he was the youngest prisoner in the facility. He did not regret, nothing could make him regret his crimes but he wished he could have been free for longer. In the beginning he thought that someone would come for him, a boy that he knew, but his hopes had crumbled eventually.

Arkham gave their patients drugs three times a day to keep them subdued. The 'medication' was hidden in the tasteless slop that was served here. When he arrived, for the first four days he refused to eat. He was ambushed by four guards while he slept and tranquilized with a needle carelessly stabbed into his neck. He woke an hour later strapped to a table with tubes down his nose. He could still hear the voices telling him that it was his own fault and that this was for his own good. The boy never missed a meal again after three days left restrained like that.

He hated how helpless he was in Arkham, every second of his life here was monitored and controlled. It was tedious and it made him agitated. The guards here all thought he was a young goon from the Jokerz gang, and although he was a member, he was really so much more.

They thought of him as a stupid low life criminal so that's what he acted like. How were they to know that he'd gone to the best private school in Gotham or that he had killed two people by the time he'd reached fifteen?

As the lights in the hallway clicked off and darkness surrounded him, the boy, Cole, vowed that this would not be his life for long.

Cole woke suddenly to a loud buzzing, the start of another monotonous scheduled day at Arkham. The only things that ever changed were killings, escapes or visits from Robin and Batman. Not that they ever talked to Cole but they were frequently returning escapees.

Robin was a brilliant puzzle for him, once he had saved Cole from a partially brutal bashing from his father. Of course, it took a more permanent solution than a boy wearing a colorful costume to stop Gregory Leer from laying hands on his son. Robin represented what he wanted to be, not a fighter of crime but the pinnacle of strength and influence, a source of fear for the weak.

Cole had been in Arkham Asylum for a month before he got to see Robin again, he was a splash of red and green on a plain white canvas. A light in the misty fog of this place. There he was, marching behind Batman, on their way to the maximum security floors. Robin looked like he was a little older than Cole was, maybe 17-years-old. He was lithe but muscular and appeared as though he could take on the world.

Cole hadn't been able to think about anything else for weeks. He didn't know what it was about Robin that had this affect on him. Maybe it was because they looked similar, maybe it was that Robin had the freedom to go and do whatever he pleased or maybe it was because they were so completely different in their morals.

Seeing Robin had been the only bright spot in Cole's life for almost three months and it was becoming a worrying obsession.

 _Author's Note_

 _OK guys, this is my updated version of this chapter as of 17.7.2017. I'd love any feedback that you have, I'm really sorry for the long (2 year) wait, I just kind of fell out of writing during my last year of school and didn't pick it back up. But, I'm going to Europe for a holiday so that should give me some time to re-write some of this stuff._

 _Please read and review. Thanks_


	2. Chapter 2 - Memories of Home

Cole was 8 when his mother found him carving up the dog from the house two blocks down, it was a beagle. Small enough for him to grab and snap its trusting neck with his little hands without much trouble. Mother was not due home for hours so he was caught by surprise when she pulled into the driveway. He rushed his clean up and blood dripped through the plastic tarp and onto the carpet of his room, he didn't have time to bury the evidence and she was blocking the outside bin. So he wrapped it up as best he could and stuffed it in the bottom of his wardrobe, along with the four stolen, blood covered kitchen knives.

Months ago she had found one of the birds he had killed and dissected, buried in the back yard. He told her that it was already dead when he found it, but the truth was that he had made an elaborate trap for them inside the bird house. Cole had made a noose with a piece of string and a pressure plate with a coat hanger and a weight, when the bird landed on the hole in the box the plate would be activated and the noose would strangle it. Cole just wanted to see what was inside them that was all. She didn't understand, got mad, she took him to church more often and called him devil-child.

Cole was still frantically scrubbing spilt blood when she slammed the door of his room open. "What in God's name is this?" she screamed at him, slowly walking forward. He stayed kneeling on the floor, not ready to face her anger, she would surly tell father as well. She followed the trail of blood to his wardrobe and picked up the dripping blue tarp. At the worst moment, a corner of the cover slipped from her figures and a lump of organs, blood and brown and white fur splatted onto the floor. Mother screamed and sprinted out of the room, high-heels clattering as she ran down the stairs. Cole crawled over to the gruesome lump and picked out the still whole tail, he ran it under cold water in his bathroom to wash some of the blood off. He carried it gingerly to the inconspicuous box under his bed, one of many that looked the same. He placed the little brown and white spotted tail in the box with ten multicolored feathers, a long white fluffy tail and a black cat ear.

Cole could hear mother's sobbing from upstairs, he slowly made his way toward it. He paused just outside the door fame to the kitchen unsure of how she would react and a little fearful of her response. There was some vomit on the floor next to her kneeling body. Mother did not even turn around as she said, "Your father and I hoped, that as you grew you would change. Still the freak you always were. No other 8 year old child pulls apart animals! Why can't you just be normal? Why would God would curse us with you, devil-child. Lord what have we done?" She sobbed. He stared impassively at his mother from the doorway, still hidden in the shadows. She was looking to the heavens for answers, she would find none there.

Cole knew it would come to this one day, he was unable to hide all the time. He was careless, he rushed through the cleanup, hadn't expected her home so soon, she had seen him practicing. Hesitation on his face, as he approached, then tentatively touched her shoulder with his small hand, he still needed her. He couldn't move up in the world by himself, yet.

"Mother, please. I… I'll be better. I promise, that dog was an accident. I didn't mean for the blood to get onto the carpet." He pulled her chin gently down and stared into her eyes. The boy pushed out a few tears and wobbled his bottom lip, like he had seen the other kids at school do.

"No, Cole. You'll not fool me again. The devil is in you, boy. And I'll make sure your father knows so he can get it out of you."

 _Please tell me what you think, I love hearing from you guys. Review please!_


	3. Chapter 3 - School

Cole knew he wasn't like the other kids at school, they were stupid, so oblivious to the world around them, so easy to push where he wanted. Cole was the quiet kid, he looked vulnerable to bullies, and in some ways he was, but he was clever, and realized from an early age that the world was a ladder, one that he wanted to climb to the top.

When he was 9 his father lost his job as Manager of construction, third strike for drinking on the job. The family had to move from their modest two story home in Midtown to a one room apartment in the worst neighborhood in Gotham, The Bowery. The Bowery was a cesspit of despicable people and decrepit buildings, there was only room for one bed so Cole was forced to sleep on the couch. The bathroom was in the hallway, so the 8 people living in the four apartments on their level had to share one toilet. There was only two schools nearby, Brentwood Academy, which was located just outside of Gotham and Park Row Public School, which was renowned for its shootings and dropout rate.

Cole knew that he needed a good education and applied for a scholarship to Brentwood Academy, the most prestigious school in Gotham, he was accepted on the first round. The children sneered at him to begin with, they were all rich and he was from poor as dirt. Cole soon changed their minds to his advantage and he received the nickname the Snake from his peers. Small and slippery, with a venomous tongue. Always able to slither out of trouble and sly enough to know the weaknesses of his enemies.

Cole was able to synthesize emotions almost perfectly by thirteen, normal people were a strange mystery still, but he understood they were almost identical in their thinking. He improved his techniques and ingrained relationships with children of influential people such as Luis Montoya, Hamilton Hill Junior and Barbara Gordon.

At fourteen Cole realized that his home life was interfering with his school one, his emaciated body was more obvious after his growth spurt and the bruises were becoming harder to excuse. That there is only so many times someone could fall down the stairs or out of bed before it becomes suspicious. It was unacceptable to Cole that he be placed as a warden of the state. That would be stepping down the rungs of the social ladder.

Something had to be done about father and mother.

 _Please tell me what you think, I love hearing from you guys. Review please!_


	4. Dr Leeland Psychopathy Psychologist

"So, Mr. Leer… My name is Doctor Joan Leeland, I'll be your psychologist here, at Arkham. If you have any problems you can tell a guard to inform me. As one of the youngest patients currently in Arkham your safety is a priority for us. You seem like a nice boy, Cole. Try not to draw attention to yourself." Cole stayed silent, assessing her. She looked middle aged, with a harsh professional bun in her hair but her face looked open and hopeful. She stared expectantly at him but he continued to stay silent.

The Doctor began to look uncomfortable, "you don't have to talk if you don't feel ready, Mr. Leer. Some of my patients use other forms of media to communicate. Drawing can be especially effective." She passed him a piece of paper and a blunt pencil, his chains clinked as he reached over to grab them from her hand. He looked blankly at her for a second and started to slowly tear the paper into quarters, the noise echoed in the bare, clinical room. She looked disappointed as he let the pieces float from his hand to the ground.

"Are you going to speak at all Mr. Leer? You won't get better if you don't cooperate." She could help him, he understood that. She had influence as the longest lasting psychologist at the asylum and if she was on his side it could make his life a lot easier in the long run. The guards would be less inclined to hurt him, he may even get better medical service if something goes wrong and if he was really lucky she my begin to trust him. Cole knew she was a clever woman and would not be fooled with lies so he decided to gain her sympathy with the truth.

Cole just opened his mouth and the words spilled out, "My mother was deeply religious, she went to church as frequently as father would let her. She was a fanatic, her life revolved around God and everything that she viewed as biblical. Unfortunately for me I was not included in that, in fact the opposite, I was in league with the devil." Sarcasm dripped off his every word, the doctor looked thrilled that he was talking and began to scribble notes on her clipboard.

Cole took a deep breath in before he continued, "She didn't want children, and she said I was the spawn of the Satan. Hated me from the day I was born till the day she died. When I cried as a child she would dig her nails into my arms or shake me, until I learned that no one was listening." Cole twisted his arm around and pulled his orange sleeve up to his forearm. White scars littered his young skin, a line of old semicircle nail marks and three pale cigarette burns could be easily spotted. Color drained from the doctor's face, his file never went into this sort of detail. "I tried to gain some approval, at least to make my life a little easier but no good deed went unpunished in that house. By the time I was old enough to do something about her, I knew that I needed her to survive." The doctor looked appalled, Cole wasn't sure if it was because he had planned his mother's murder as a child or because of how he was treated at her hands.

He sat for a while, silent. Breath rushing out of his lungs he slumped in his chair before continuing, "My father, on the other hand waited until I was 8 before he laid his hands on me, he slapped me so hard that I got a concussion from hitting the ground, mother told him about my work with the animals and to appease her he beat me. To be honest I don't think he cared much about that particular incident but later he hit me for pure enjoyment. He was laid off work when I was 9 and things began to rapidly decline after that. We couldn't pay our bills and had to move to a house in The Bowery neighborhood, we got broken into six times there. After the second time father didn't have enough to replace the glass of our windows and we slept with snow coming into our one room apartment. Food was scarce, why would they feed the devil-child before themselves"

He told Leeland about how he learned to fight when he was thirteen, from a group of homeless boys who he befriended after they cornered him in an ally. The Bowery was one of the worst neighborhoods in Gotham, homelessness, lawbreaking and prostitution were everywhere. With Crime Ally to the north and Old Gotham to the south, it was surrounded by decaying buildings and repugnant people.

"Both of my parent's disdained me, I honestly thought I was going to die after the beating my father gave me at my acceptance to Brentwood, I thought seriously about killing him that night. But I knew how the homeless kids in The Bowery lived, I knew that as a child of nine I would have no chance by myself."

"Well, Mr. Leer as enlightening as today's session was. It is time for the guards to take you back to your cell. Thank you for your trust today, opening up is the first step of your treatment." She seemed pleased with herself as she packed up her things and stacked them over her clipboard. As she opened the door, the two guards came in to unlock Cole's cuffs from the chair.

As he was frog marched back to his dark cell, he turned to watch his doctor stroll down the bright corridor toward freedom.

 _Please tell me what you think, I love hearing from you guys. Review please!_


	5. Chapter 5 – The Beginning of Eldritch

Cole was twelve when he began to hang around the kids from The Bowery. Michael 'Mouse' Rodent was the first who tried to be friends with him, Mouse was a lanky fourteen year old who had dirty brown hair and two older brothers. The whole Rodent family had strong ties to the Jokerz gang, their house was a crumbling building right next the old Axis Chemicals Plant, birth place of The Joker.

Robert 'Rat' Rodent who was eighteen, had joined the gang as a street soldier, Rat was a burly man with more muscle than brains but had a strong loyalty to those who earned his trust and always looked out for his family. His twenty three year old brother was the district warlord, Hamish 'Hamster' Rodent was a competitive and clever business man, he rose quickly in the gang hierarchy. Hamster made all the major region decisions, controlled any wars and protected his territory from the other gangs.

Cole was able to join as a runner at twelve, he was paid by the gram and was able to make loads of money dealing at Brentwood. Violence was normal and accepted in the gang, Cole learned self-defence and basic kick boxing when he was indoctrinated. He chose the tag 'Snake' and by the time he was fourteen had become famous for his viper-quick jabs and his ability to slip around and defeat larger opponents. He still remained small for his age and lost many of the boxing matches that he entered but he had a ruthless reputation and a stubbornness to keep fighting even when injured that allowed him to gain status even among the older members.

Cole decided when he joined that he needed a main group that he could rely on, this consisted of Mouse who was able to use his familial ties in the gang to his advantage, Drew 'DJ' Jones who was the designated scapegoat if the cops got involved because his mother was a lieutenant in the GCPD, also he was a smooth talker and was able to squeeze out of anything. Veronica 'Venom' Chang who was from an influential family that ran the Chinese gang 'Ghost Dragon' in Gotham, she joined the Jokerz because her father would not let her enter the family business, she knew the gang system and had important contacts in the city. The final member Winston 'Butch' Southern was the muscle, he was huge for a fourteen year old, already six foot tall, always in the gym and ready to protect his friends from any and all threats.

Cole was the organiser of their group and financer, each member had a use and a role. He wasn't afraid to use others to increase their status within the Jokerz, his friends knew that he could get them to the top of the ladder. They named themselves 'Eldritch', which represents the reputation that Cole wanted his group to have. As they were all children it meant that the ladder was not all that high, but the younger groups in the Jokerz competed for smaller territories that they fought over. Eldritch had the largest area, only a year after their formation and was the making the most money. Cole saved everything he had earned and still attended school every day, unlike the rest of the boys in Eldritch who had all dropped out and spent their money as soon as they got it.

The Eldritch group grew but the five original members were the ones in charge. They often rode their bikes into the ruins of Amusement Mile and walked within the Joker's home territory. A few adult guards patrolled the grounds but the Joker had been detained in Arkham by Batman six months earlier so there were not many occupants in the Fun House. The area was a desolate, creepy, abandoned amusement park that had been decorated with leering clowns that laughed mechanically as someone walked in front of them. Eldritch met here to deliver the money they had made from their drugs, how close they came to being caught by the cops and to brag about which houses they had thrown bricks into in the past week.

Cole enjoyed the time that he spent with Eldritch, he was a successful, respected leader. Unfortunately occasionally he had to go home.

 _Please tell me what you think, I love hearing from you guys. Review please!_


	6. Chapter 6 – Birth in Blood

Cole's plan was to wait until he turned fifteen to kill his parents. Then he would be able to survive by himself. He was going to start boarding at Brentwood soon because the nurse had seen his bruises and had informed the school. He had negotiated with them and refused to testify to the police, they eventually agreed to allow him to board. What they hadn't told him was that they had immediately sent a letter to his parents. He thought maybe they would wait until he was safe at school, but no, they didn't, and that was what got him into this situation.

"No, stop. Please mother you're hurting me." Cole's arms were pushed hard down on to the cold floor by his mother's spindly fingers, wrapping easily around his skeletal wrists. Her nails dug into his tender skin, blood welled around her claws and slowly dripped onto the floor. His face rested on the cold floor, his father towered behind him, shadow stretched over Cole's back.

"Think yourself better than us now do ya? Smarter than your own father now, because of that fancy school? Think you can talk down to us because you have rich friends. Money don't mean shit, boy. Think you can move outta here just like that? Family's all you got." Cole stayed silent, there was nothing he could say to his father to calm him. There was a familiar jingle as he unbuckled his belt, Cole unconsciously tensed the muscles in his back and held his breath, readying himself.

He flinched minutely as he felt the air rush pass his bare back from father's practice swing. Even if he could shake off mother and outrun father there was nowhere to go in the one room apartment, no doors to hide behind. Seconds later a line of fire lit up his skin, he muffled his yell in the crook of his elbow. The loud slap echoed throughout the small apartment, Cole felt mother flinch from where she was holding him down. Another landed across his left shoulder then the next on his right. Pain ran down his spine, welts formed and skin broke under the repeated hits.

"Are you listening, boy? See what you've made us do? Maybe you need some more encouragement, eh?" he looked at mother, she nodded from her place on the floor. Shifting his hold on the belt so that the buckle would hit his skin instead of the leather, he began again. Cole bit into his arm hard enough to taste blood but did not scream, father would not take his screams from him.

Sweat stung as it slithered in droplets down his bloodied back, slowly dripping onto the floor. It was taking longer than usual for father to tire, as the pool grew slightly larger, Cole began to worry, he felt dizzy and faint. All his plans, all his meticulous schemes would not be destroyed by his useless, idiot father in a random drunken rage.

Putrid, alcohol drenched breath washed over him as his father panted. The beating slowed and he staggered over to Cole's couch dropping the bloody belt on the floor. He took out a cigarette and drew in a shaky breath, exhale. The room was quiet, mother was still holding Cole's arms to the floor, her hair was a mess but she looked satisfied. Cole's eyes were watering, tears mixing with the other fluids on the floor and there was a circular bloody bite mark on his arm.

His father stood, smoke still drifting about his head. He crouched beside to Cole's mother, right next to his face. "Do you understand now, boy? You can never escape your family." He raised the red hot cigarette and pressed it into Cole's arm, there was a short sizzle as the butt blackened his skin and the boy screamed as his father twisted it till it fell apart in his large fingers.

Cole needed to move his plans forward. All he needed now was 12 meters of rope, a razor and a gun. He would have his revenge.

 _Thank you to everyone who has reviewed this story, I really appreciate it. Please give me any feedback and review, thanks._


	7. Chapter 7 – Modern Art

Two days after the beating he got from father he had gathered all of the equipment that he needed. He got a gun from his friend, Mouse, in The Bowery who had stolen it from his older brother Rat who was part of the Jokerz street gang. Father was out at the pub spending the little money he had collected to feed their family and would not be back until 6am when the buses began again. Cole creeped behind mother and when she reached the edge of her bed he swung the pan he had grabbed from the kitchen, and hit the back of her head as hard as he could.

He dragged her deadweight body and pushed her onto her threadbare sheets of his parent's bed. He tied her arms to the sturdy metal bed head with abrasive rope. Her face was limp, her brown hair dry and wiry. There was a lump on her head and black bags under her eyes. She looked old.

"Mother. Mother." Cole slapped her slack face, she moaned, shifted to the side, and then froze as she realized rough rope restrained her to herbed, she looked straight at him and he saw fear reflected in her dull brown eyes. Cole felt excitement build in his stomach, years of careful planning about to be executed. This would be his reward, the reward for his patience. His face was shrouded in shadow, the only light in his parent's bedroom coming from the light in the kitchen.

"Mother, did you ever love me? Should I be merciful?" he paused, "You never were to me. You brought a demon into this world and it's my turn to repay you." He smiled like an angel, his young face brightening in his childlike excitement. "Father will not be back for hours. All alone together, you and I." He held a small razor in gloved his gloved hand, and watched the light glint off the sharp edge.

"Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee" she whispered while staring into his wide grey eyes. "Blessed art thou among women. And blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus."

Cole sighed in disappointment, "God can't help you now mother, he sent me for you. You are a sinner. You let your only son be –"

She lurched at him, her wrists pulling against her restraints "You shut your devil loving mouth." She yelled, "You will spend the rest of your life in Blackgate Prison, then your death in hell. That's if your father doesn't catch you first!"

He chuckled, "Who do you think they will blame? The alcoholic with a history of domestic violence or the fourteen year old boy with a scholarship at Brentwood?" he said condescendingly. "You think that I haven't thought this through? Living without parents will be hard, but I will not stand to die by the hands of those meant to protect me."

She turned her face away from him, "Holy Mary, Mother of God. Pray for us sinners" He grabbed a fistful of her wiry, oily, brown hair and raised the sharp blade. Her voice was strained, as she completed her last words, "Now and in the hour of our death. Amen." A light childlike laugh came from his mouth as he brought the razor down on her neck. He made sure to angle the cut away from his body, to keep the scene as clean as he could.

Blood arched from her, spraying the wall, pooling on the floor, seeping through the sheets. It was the most beautiful thing Cole had ever seen, everything he ever dreamed it would be. She coughed and a splatter of warm blood hit his face, it dribbled down the side of his cheek. He watched as the light left her eyes, blood still flowing softly out of the side of her neck.

Father is next.

 _Hey guys, this is the last pre-written chapter that I've got. So the next one might take a little longer than usual. Also getting down to the business end of year 12 so that has to take priority. Review if you enjoyed this chapter, I really appreciate any feedback. Thanks._


	8. Chapter 8 - Revenge

The sun had begun to rise and the birds that lived in the eves were softly singing when Cole heard father fiddling with the doorknob. Mother's body had cooled hours ago, her body drained and pale, still lying tied to the bed. The splatters of blood had long since dried on his face and the wall, oxygen turning the bright red to a muddy brown. Her mouth gaped open in perpetual shock, eyes began to glaze and the skin of her neck was flayed open, showing her true soul. Dark and mangled, ruined and corrupted. This was the most honest Cole had ever seen her, he stared for long hours at the masterpiece that he had made of Mother. She was more in death than she had ever been in life.

Cole was calmly sitting on his couch facing the door, holding the Glock loosely in his hand, when Father finally made it through the entrance. Still stumbling and unfocused. Cole stood slowly, blocking Father's view as the old, splintered, wooden door shut with a final bang. The boy released a quick breath that he had been holding as his father entered, everything had to be perfect. This was his big moment.

"Father." Cole raised the Glock level with his face, the gun shaking with excitement. "Did you have a good night out?"

"What is this bullshit, boy? Where's your mother? Where'd you get that gun from, eh?" He stared at Cole's quivering hand, he thought it was nervousness or fear. He was wrong. "You wouldn't shoot your own Father." He took a few confident steps forward before he was able to spot Mother. "Jesus Christ! What the fuck have you done?" He yelled, disbelief and shock echoing from his words.

"I killed her. Obviously." Cole said deadpan, then he coughed like he was holding back a laugh. "Well actually according to the police report you killed her. In a tragic murder–suicide. Isn't that just so sad." He pouted at Father and walked slowly closer, pointing the gun further up as he did, keeping it level with his face. The man was frozen in shock, staring at his dead wife as the boy moved ever closer, until the gun was under his chin, aiming at the sky.

"Bye bye, Daddy." Then Cole pulled the trigger.

Blood, bone and brains splashed the roof before falling to earth, like rain from the heavens. Chunks fell from the sky and splattered wetly on the tile floor, hitting Father in the face before his body had a chance to fall. Finally, he crashed to the ground like a rotted, old oak. Cole wiped his fingerprints from the gun with a cloth and carefully wrapped his Father's still-warm fingers around the Glock.

The neighbours would have heard the gunshot, Cole knew no one would call the cops, this was the Bowery and it was every man for himself. Here, you could watch someone being strangled to death on the street from the safety of your home window and feel justified that you had done the right thing. Cole relied on the bystander effect and the fear of his neighbours to ensure that he escaped before the police arrived.

Cole promised himself beforehand that he would not take anything from the scene, but looking at the perfect picture of his parents he felt compelled to keep something. A body part would work from his mother but it would ruin his plan if he took a finger from his father. He thought about it for a minute, standing beside the cooling body of Father.

Hair. That was the easiest way. Cole's parents both had dirty brown hair with a few greys scattered through. He cut a clump from Father's shoulder length hair and put it on his couch, then did the same for Mother. He would have to decide what to do with it later, possibly another trophy or maybe he would make it into something he could keep with him all the time.

Cole packed an overnight bag and left it on the couch that was his bed. He stripped down, removing his blood covered clothing, grabbed a threadbare towel and his cheap toiletries. He would clean himself up, then he would move on the part three of his plan. The boy opened the door, the corridor was deserted and silent. His neighbours had disappeared, it made things easier, no explanations needed. He padded, barefoot to the communal bathroom and looked at his reflection. Dried blood splatters were layered with fresh, new blood from Father, Cole's grey eyes stood stark against the dark crimson covering his face.

He expected to look different, older, tougher, more accomplished, but he didn't. He still had the bruises and welts from Father's beating last night and the scaring on his body had not magically disappeared. None of the scars that his parents had given him had vanished. The years of abuse were still a bitter poison bubbling under his skin, he would never be rid of them. But at least he was free.

 _Hey guys, please review. I really appreciate the feedback. Thanks._


	9. Chapter 9 - Crime Alley

Cole had been to Metropolis once for a school excursion, he was amazed that a four hour train trip could change the landscape so drastically. He had never seen the streets so clean, the buildings so new and the sun so bright anywhere in Gotham. Students had run around like chickens with their heads cut off when Superman had flown past, Cole had realised in that moment how inconsequential humans would seem to someone as invincible as him. Cole could feel his newest injuries rubbing against his threadbare clothes, as he turned to watch him fly through the clear blue sky. He had called for Superman once to save him, when his dad had beat the shit out of him, no-one had come. That was years ago.

The streets of Gotham were not a safe place, especially in the Bowery. Cole needed to get to Rat's house as quickly as possible to cement his alibi, he had told the Rodent boys that he was going out and asked them to cover him. He trusted Rat more than anyone else, his right hand man was dedicated, ambitious and loyal. Cole could predict his responses easily after three years of association, so he felt safe around his ally. Really, he was the one person he felt completely safe around.

He would leave his parents to rot until tonight, he will then call the police completely distraught, he'd just found his parents brutally murdered while he slept at his best friend's house. 'Oh god, there's blood everywhere! What will I do? Please help. Who would do this?' he would and cry. Cole didn't know how he would stop himself laughing, his acting skills would be the make or break of his grand performance. Obviously he would have to hide the hair he had taken from his parents, because if it was found it would destroy his alibi.

Cole walked quickly, his bag slapping against his leg, he watched his surroundings in the broken glass that littered the ground. The sun had forgotten the existence of Gotham, smog sat low in the sky constantly, and the tops of the tallest buildings were obscured for most of the year. He heard a rubbish bin lid clatter to the ground in the alleyway behind him. The sharp noise echoed against the cold, brick buildings. Cole spun around but the lane was empty, the shadows hid much of the path, darkened corners seemed to reach its black fingers toward him, his heart rate increased.

'It could just be a cat, I'll be ok, and it is ten in the morning.' Cole tried to convince himself, 'no-one is crazy enough to snatch kids from the streets during the day.' Walking faster, he still had a mile till he got to Rat's house. Suddenly he saw movement from the corner of his eye, dropping like a pin from the metal fire escape.

The man was half kneeling, shirtless, covered in countless, raised, white, tally mark scars. He raised his bald head slowly, the sun glimmered across the unfinished tally on his forehead. "So, what's a little boy like you doing all alone in a place like this?" his voice was high pitched, quiet and strained. He held up his pale arm, light glinted off the knife held in a white knuckle grip. The man stood slowly, he was well muscled but thin, like he hadn't eaten properly in years.

He began to walk slowly forward, "My name is Victor Zsasz, you may have heard of me". The last that Cole had heard of Zsasz he had been in Arkham Asylum, he was credited with over forty murders, and he was a complete psychopath, who had become famous for his indiscriminate, random murders and for the fact that after every kill he would carve a new tally mark into his own flesh. Cole quickly assessed the situation, he could run left, towards Rat's house or right to run home. He couldn't fight this man, Zsasz had the athletic body of a martial artist, long legs and coiled muscles. Cole breathed in deep, and dodged to the right before sprinting as fast as he could down the left side of the alleyway. The man was briefly fooled and Cole broke free, he was able to run a few precious meters before he could hear the echoing slap of Zsasz's bare feet on the hard concrete.

The street got ever closer, Cole's rapid heartbeat drummed in his ears, his breath quickened, he could hear the murderer gaining on him. A flash out of the corner of his eye, and milliseconds later he was flattened on the ground, a heavy body pushing his body into the concrete, cold metal on his neck.

"Well, little boy. What am I going to do with you?"

 _Hey everyone, this was written pretty quickly so if there are any mistakes please let me know. I have just started another story, its a Supernatural fanfiction so if you have time go check it out. Also please, please review, it makes my day. This was my first published story so I appreciate any advice. Thanks for reading._


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